You Can Run...

by Carlene Thompson

  Another time shift and Diana suddenly faced Nan in the kitchen. Nan seemed different—deferential and emotionally beaten. “I need to tell you something,” she said. She talked about Glen. Nan also needed to tell her about someone else. Penny.

  Now Diana sat in the library. A handsome, dark-haired man talked to her and to Simon. He apologized for how another man had acted in the park. He said the man had suffered a shock—the doctor had said Penny was pregnant. Pregnant.

  And then a glass had shattered in the kitchen.

  Diana awakened with a start. She looked at Tyler pressed against the back of the couch, his socked feet hanging over the armrest, one arm thrown possessively across her, blondish hair covering one closed eye, his mouth slightly open. He wasn’t snoring. Thank goodness he doesn’t snore, Diana thought absently. She wanted to wake him. She wanted to tell him that her memory was returning. But did she remember anything important? Did she remember what had happened to her last night, why she’d fallen? No, let him sleep, she thought. He looked peaceful. Cramped but peaceful.

  Diana, on the other hand, knew she couldn’t lie on this couch one more minute. She was too restless, her mind too agitated. Besides, dawn hovered—she could feel it. Slowly and gently she lifted the afghan off herself and draped it over Tyler. With equal care, Diana moved his arm. He murmured but did not open his eyes. She then slid off the couch and stifled a cry of pain as she stood up . . . and felt as if a hot poker had been thrust into her hip and partly up her back. Diana’s sprained wrist throbbed. Her head ached. Her mouth was drier than the desert. Running around dodging a killer’s bullets hadn’t been the best therapy, she thought ruefully. But a painkiller would take off the edge. Yes, she definitely needed a painkiller, a glass of ice water, and at least one cup of hot coffee. Immediately.

  Diana made her way slowly to the kitchen. She took a painkiller and thirstily downed a whole glass of water. Then she reached for the airtight coffee canister and frowned. Propped against the canister was a legal-sized envelope with diana written on the front. Nan’s handwriting, Diana thought. What could Nan possibly have wanted to say in a letter that she couldn’t say in person?

  2

  Blake heard a clatter at his hotel room door and opened his eyes to see Lenore dragging in two small pieces of luggage. “Am I forgiven?” he asked.

  “You’re getting there.” Lenore’s hair hung messily around a tired face. She’d put on a slash of rosy lipstick that didn’t improve the look of her ashy complexion or slightly sunken eyes. “I know I look like hell, but I didn’t sleep much.”

  Blake sat up but didn’t offer to help with her luggage. “You never do when you don’t sleep with me. I don’t think I did anything so awful you had to remove yourself from the marriage bed.”

  Lenore faced him, her hands placed on her hips. “You nearly choked my brother to death because he was understandably furious with Diana Sheridan.”

  Blake’s dark eyes widened. “I did not nearly choke Jeff to death and he wasn’t understandably furious with Diana! What did she do to make him furious?”

  “She withheld information a husband has a right to know. If she’d told Jeff about Penny’s lover, the news of her pregnancy wouldn’t have sent him into a tailspin. Diana knew and she didn’t have the decency to warn Jeff.”

  “You have decided Diana knew. You have no proof, Lenore.”

  She flung the smaller piece of luggage on a chair, and ran a hand through her tousled hair. “And now you’re defending her. Why? What is she to you, Blake? Why are you taking her side rather than your own wife’s?”

  “Because my wife’s side is . . .” Blake broke off.

  Lenore looked at him challengingly. “Your wife’s side is what?”

  “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. I’ll say something I regret.” Blake closed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to clear it. “I’m going to order us some breakfast. What do want?”

  “Coffee.”

  “That’s it? Just coffee?”

  “Yes,” Lenore snapped. “I suppose you’re stunned because I don’t want my usual lumberjack’s breakfast.”

  Blake gazed at her for a moment then burst out laughing. “Lumberjack’s breakfast! Lenore, what are you talking about?”

  “You wish I hardly ate anything so I’d be all skin and bones like Diana Sheridan. Or Penny.”

  Blake put his head in his hands and moaned, “Oh God, here we go again. I should have expected it.” He lowered his hands. “You think I wanted Penny? An ex-stripper who crawled out from who knows what gutter?”

  “I’m not saying you wanted to marry her. I’m saying you wanted to have an affair with her.”

  Blake closed his eyes for a moment then said with strained patience, “Penny was—is your brother’s wife. No one has ever accused me of being stupid, and having an affair with your brother’s wife would have been extremely stupid. Not to mention that your brother is my best friend. Also not to mention that I could never look at Penny without seeing her sliding down a stripper pole, and I don’t find that sexy. God only knows how many men she slept with before Jeff came along.”

  “You certainly gave Jeff an impassioned speech about how much she loved him.”

  “And what exactly does that have to do with me? He was satisfied with her. Good for him. I couldn’t have spent one night with her, but he doesn’t have to know how I felt.”

  Lenore stared at him for a few moments, hope, reassurance, doubt, and unhappiness all flashing through her gaze. Finally she said, “I still think you’d rather have someone else. If not Penny, then Diana. I don’t think Diana Sheridan has slid down any stripper poles!”

  Blake stared at her steadily. “Lenore, I do not want Diana Sheridan. Also, when you talk like that, you sound like you’re five years old. Willow probably sounds more mature.”

  “Her name is Cornelia. That’s what Jeffrey named her and that’s what I’m going to call her.”

  “Well, that’s very grown up of you, darling. You make me proud when you take an important stand like that—just gosh-darn proud!”

  Lenore looked at him furiously. “I know you think all of this is very funny—”

  “I don’t think it’s funny at all. I think it’s pathetic. Lenore, you and I have been married for twelve years and during that whole time, you’ve thought I want a younger woman. You’re four years older than I am. Four years. That’s nothing! I know when we got married a few ignorant people made remarks about how I was marrying you for your money and to get my foot in the door of the company. Well, Len, I happened to be Jeff’s best friend—my foot would have been in the door of the company if you and I had never said more than hello. And I’ve insisted we live on what I make—your money is tucked away in stocks, bonds, and trusts. I have never given you reason to distrust me—to think I’m using you, to think I’m having affairs—and I’m getting extremely tired of these scenes.”

  Some of the rigidity left Lenore’s back, and her shoulders slumped, almost as if her confidence was draining away with her anger. “What about Jeffrey? Is he all right?”

  “He was fine around midnight when we talked and he drank some bourbon before going to bed.”

  “So what you did to him in the park didn’t hurt him?”

  Blake took a deep breath, looking like someone desperately fighting for control. “I temporarily cut off his breath and he dropped to his knees. I didn’t break his neck, Lenore. And I’ll tell you what I did for him—I prevented him from hitting that woman, in which case he would have been arrested for assault. He knows that, Lenore. Why don’t you?”

  Someone tapped on the door. Lenore looked at Blake, who said, “I haven’t called room service yet.”

  Almost immediately they heard Jeffrey say, “Hey, it’s me. I know you’re awake. I can hear you next door. Arguing.”

  Lenore opened the door. Jeffrey strode into the room dressed in casual clothes, his thick hair still damp from the shower, his face ruddy from a recent shave. Hi
s eyelids looked heavy, though, and the eyes themselves slightly bloodshot.

  “You didn’t stay up and drink half the night, did you?” Blake asked.

  “No. Just had trouble sleeping.”

  “So did Lenore. She’s afraid I hurt you yesterday.” Blake threw back the sheet. He wore only black pajama bottoms and a look of annoyance on his handsome face. “She’s still angry with me, Jeff.”

  Lenore gazed up at her brother. “He threw you down—”

  “He did not throw me down. I outweigh him by a good thirty pounds, Lenore.” Jeffrey put his hands on his sister’s shoulders. “I appreciate your concern for me, but as I told Blake last night, he did me a favor. I was out of control. I almost made a very big mistake.”

  “Wanting to punch Diana Sheridan? I’m not certain that would have been a mistake.”

  Jeffrey held Lenore out from him and looked into her eyes. “I thought you kind of liked the woman. You were having a picnic with her, for God’s sake.”

  “I was trying to have a picnic with my niece.”

  “And to pump Diana for information about Penny,” Blake added, searching for his robe in the tumble of clothes he’d left at the foot of the bed. “It’s my guess Lenore’s sudden dislike of Diana springs from the fact that Miss Sheridan wasn’t as compliant as Lenore expected.” Lenore looked at him in surprise, her color heightening. “Bingo.” Blake laughed.

  “Things started out all right.” Lenore sounded defeated. “I was being witlessly charming, for which my husband says I have a knack. Suddenly the look in Diana’s eyes changed. She knew exactly what I was doing. I don’t know what happened. I’ve pulled off that trick with people a lot smarter than her.”

  “Maybe they weren’t smarter than she,” Blake said.

  Lenore gave him a deadly look and said to her brother. “He not only feels free to correct my grammar but to let us both know how deeply he admires Diana.”

  “I just said—”

  “Lenore, you’re tired and edgy,” Jeffrey said kindly. “My God, who wouldn’t be? You spent nearly two weeks with Mother, which would put me six feet under the ground. On your way home, I called with the news about Penny and insisted you and Blake come here with me. You’ve been doing your best to get through to Cornelia.” He drew his sister to him and hugged her. “You’re exhausted, kid. We all are.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Lenore asked. “That we go home?”

  Jeffrey smiled at her. “For once I’m going to be unselfish and suggest that you and Blake go home.”

  Lenore blinked in surprise. “And just leave you here?”

  “I’m not a teenager, Lenore. At forty-six I should be able to handle myself in a city the size of Huntington.” His puffy eyelids lowered. “Besides, I’m not leaving here as long as Penny is still alive.”

  “And what about little Cornelia?” Lenore asked anxiously. “She’s terrified of you. She won’t go anywhere with you.”

  Jeffrey’s expression hardened, “Maybe she won’t go willingly, but she’ll go. Van Etton and his niece act like she’s theirs, but according to her birth certificate, she’s my daughter. The law can’t change that, and I have absolutely no intention of leaving her with those people much longer.”

  3

  Diana looked with foreboding at the letter while the coffee dripped into the carafe. Somehow she knew she would need strong coffee to help her deal with whatever Nan had written. She didn’t know why the letter filled her with dread, it just did. Finally she poured an insulated mug full of coffee, certain that a dainty china cupful wouldn’t be enough. She sat down at the wide table in the big kitchen, tore open the envelope, and pulled out three pieces of yellow, lined legal-pad paper. Nan’s letter began,

  Dear Miss Sheridan,

  I thought you might not be home when I came by or you might not have time to talk to me so I decided to write everything down and leave a letter if I have to because I won’t have another chance to tell you what I’ve got to tell you. I won’t be back to work ever. I have to go away. Far, far away and I’m not even telling my mama where I’m going. Not for now at least.

  I’ll just come out with it. I’ve been having an affair with Glen Austen since April. He said you’re in love with him and he was afraid if he tried to break things off, you might try to kill yourself. That’s why he said we had to keep our love affair a secret.

  “Glen, you piece of slime!” Diana exclaimed in shock then hoped her voice hadn’t been loud enough to wake Tyler. Having Glen even pretend Diana cared that much about him was infuriating. His having an affair with a student was unscrupulous, but taking advantage of one as unsophisticated as Nan was disgusting. She gritted her teeth and continued reading.

  I told Glen we couldn’t protect your feelings forever. You’d have to know some time. That’s when he told me about his other problem. His gambling. He said it started when he was in college and it just crept up on him. He tried to get ahold of himself but he just couldn’t. He said now he’s over a hundred thousand dollars in debt! He said he just barely scrapes by on his college salary and he gives every extra penny to a loan shark, but he’s not making much progress on his bill and he’s afraid they’re going to come after him. He said he lived every day in terror and he loved me too much to drag me into that world. I felt so sorry for him. I worried all the time, trying to figure out how I could get money to help.

  Well, I know you’ll have trouble believing what came next. I sure did, but then I decided it must be a miracle. Mama had her heart attack in May and she made me come work for you. I know I’m not insulting you by saying I didn’t like the job. I don’t like being told what to do. Anyway, I did it to please Mama and because we needed the money. I met Penny. I could tell she didn’t care for me much more than you did and I didn’t like her. She was perky all the time. I hate perky people.

  Anyway, after I’d spent a day at your house that seemed as long as three days, I was laying on my bed feeling like I just couldn’t bear to go back to work. I was depressed so I dragged out all my magazines I’ve saved for years. Mama calls them trash, but I like reading about the movie stars and rich people and all the crazy things they do that I’ll never get to do.

  I’d read about six of my magazines when I finally came to one way over a year old. I saw an article about a millionaire’s wife who was an ex-stripper and she’d just run away from him, took their little girl but no money. I wondered what kind of stupid woman would pull a trick like that. An ex-stripper married to a millionaire? She’d struck gold! Then I looked closer at the picture of the man and woman together. He was all right but nothing special—kind of old—but she was gorgeous. Long blond hair, real blue eyes, big diamond earrings, great makeup job. Then something about her struck me as familiar. It wasn’t her hair. It sure wasn’t her diamonds. I put my hand over her hair and something sort of chimed in my head. I took a pen and made her hair short and dark and I made her eyes dark, too, instead of blue. And guess who I was looking at? Penny Conley.

  At first, I couldn’t believe it. It was just way too weird to be true. I didn’t think I was seeing straight, so I took the article to Glen. He looked at it in every direction and said yeah, it did sort of look like Penny, but not really. He said he just didn’t see it. But he hadn’t spent as much time looking at Penny as I had. And what about Willow? The article said the woman had taken their kid—a three-year-old girl. The article said the girl’s name was Cornelia or something like that, but I figured she’d be about five by now, just like Willow. I didn’t care what Glen said. I knew what I’d discovered without anybody’s help!

  Diana stopped reading and picked up her coffee mug with a trembling hand, her mind doing quick calculations. She and Glen had taken Penny to the country club in early May. She hadn’t sensed tension between Glen and Penny—just fascination on Glen’s part, which hadn’t bothered her. Nan had come to work for Simon in late May, and soon after she must have seen the article about Penny and Jeffrey. She’d told Glen.

&nb
sp; Something niggled at Diana’s brain. A thought. A returning memory. Someone saying something . . . Clarice! Sometime, probably yesterday, Clarice had told her that Glen visited Penny in June. Had he gone to her home because he was romantically interested in her? Diana didn’t think so. Penny would have told her, knowing Diana would not be hurt by Glen’s wandering attention. No, Glen had gone to Penny’s because he did believe Nan—he knew she’d managed to locate the missing wife of millionaire Jeffrey Cavanaugh. What did he say to Penny that night? Had he asked for money in return for his silence? No. Glen knew Penny didn’t have any money. So what could he have asked for? Sex, Diana thought. If Glen was unscrupulous enough to seduce poor, dim Nan Murphy, was he capable of demanding sex from Penny in return for his silence? Or had he played a same of vicious cat tormenting helpless mouse?

  Diana didn’t want to keep reading Nan’s letter, but she had no choice. She, not to mention the police, must know everything Nan had to tell about Glen.

  I was mad because Glen didn’t believe me—he acted like I was just a kid imagining things. I knew I was right, though, so I did more research on this millionaire Jeffrey Cavanaugh and found out about his big business in New York, the address and everything. It took me until late July to get up my nerve, but when I did, I typed a note to Mr. Cavanaugh telling him I knew where his wife and kid were and that I wasn’t a crank or anything, I was real reliable. I told him if he sent $150,000 to a post office box, I’d see to it that he found his wife. I could’ve asked for more money, but I didn’t want to sound greedy like an unreliable person would and also that was enough money to get Glen out of trouble and have some left over—I would’ve given Mama about $10,000. So I rented a PO box just across the river in Ohio so he’d think I was from Ohio, and I sent the note.